


cherished

by gabstar



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cuddling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Sick Fic, akaashi's the most cherished human being on the planet, sleepy kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 09:43:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5412113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabstar/pseuds/gabstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bokuto tends to panic when Akaashi expresses discomfort or concern. Akaashi didn't need that. Akaashi was better off handling this alone. </p><p>((In which Bokuto's love sick, Akaashi's sick-sick, and together they feel a little better))</p>
            </blockquote>





	cherished

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kirsi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirsi/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Гуманитарная помощь](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5879596) by [Nataliny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nataliny/pseuds/Nataliny)



> thanks for the prompt amna!! sorry this got a little out of hand *sweats*

It starts with a sneeze.

It’s small, hushed. Akaashi could probably pass it off for a cough or hiccup if pressed about it, but he knows. Akaashi feels his sinuses swelling, the tender bruising feeling of a promising headache. Akaashi rubs his temples, the volleyballs thudding around the gym are suddenly far too loud.

He sneezes again. Konoha looks over.

“You alright, Akaashi? You look a little--” Konoha stops short as Akaashi makes a cutting gesture across his throat. “Uh...”

Akaashi puts a finger to his mouth and Konoha shuts up. Bokuto looks over, pausing his rifling through the volleyball cart.

“Alright, Akaashi? Konoha?”

Akaashi covers his reddening nose with one hand and gives a thumbs up with the other. “Everything’s fine, just fine.”

Bokuto doesn’t seem convinced, his thick brows crooked in confusion. But he shrugs and goes back to looking for volleyballs.

“If you say so.”

Konoha gives Akaashi a suspicious look. Akaashi clasps his hands together, pleading.

“Your funeral,” Konoha says, rejoining Sarukui and Komi for blocking practice.

Akaashi slumps in relief. He sneezes a third time and groans.

This is a disaster.

* * *

 

Akaashi wakes up the next day feeling worse. His whole body is shivering with fever and his nose raw and runny. But today he has a plan.

He takes six oranges from his fridge and stuffs them in his coat pockets. He steals both his parents scarves and wraps himself so thoroughly that only his eyes are visible. He stuffs handwarmers into his mittens and shoulders his backpack, marching to school defiant against his own pounding headache.

He’s lucky there’s no volleyball practice but it’s hard to feel grateful when the day is a slow, groggy nightmare. Akaashi’s focus keeps slipping, his hand on his cheek as he dozes through classes. He has to excuse himself twice to go retch up oranges in the bathroom and despite all his scarves and sweaters he still shakes with chills.

Akaashi only barely manages to evade Bokuto during lunch. He pipes excuses about a promise he made to meet up with Komi and Sarukui and ducks out of sight.

By the time he gets home, he’s bone-shakingly tired. He slumps against his doorframe and trembles.

 _I’ll sleep it off_ , he thinks groggily. _I’ll go upstairs and sleep it off._

Going upstairs physically pains him. Akaashi drags himself to his bedroom, laying belly-flat on the bed, still fully dressed in scarves and sweaters and his final orange is pressed against his ribs, but he doesn't care. He’s about to close his eyes and sleep when his phone buzzes.

 

**From Bokuto-san:**

I missed you today (╥_╥)

 

Akaashi feels the smallest pang of guilt. He's done this for the greater good. Bokuto tends to panic when Akaashi expresses discomfort or concern. Akaashi didn't need that. Akaashi was better off handling this alone. 

He types back:

_I missed you too. I’ll see you tomorrow._

Fearing he sounds too cold he adds a little heart. That seems to do the trick because the next thing he knows Bokuto’s sending him two full pages of heart emojis and sparkles and anything else that could possibly convey his enthusiasm.

Akaashi falls asleep smiling.

* * *

 

 

When his mother comes home and checks up on him, she’s furious. Akaashi’s treated to a full hour-long lecture about viruses and spreading germs and over exhausting yourself while sick.  All the while she’s handing him vitamins and mopping off his sweaty feverish skin, making sure he dresses in clean pajamas and shoving soup down his throat. Akaashi’s too bleary to fight back on this and when handed something to knock him out for the night, he drinks it gratefully.

 

* * *

 

 

Akaashi spends all the next day in bed and he hates it. He hates the swimming feeling in his head, the aching trembling in his bones, the congestion in his nose. But more than anything, he hates that he’s missed school and volleyball practice. He hates that any second he’s going to get multiple text messages from his boyfriend in a flurried panic, thinking he’s dead or dying or, worse, found a sport he likes better with a captain he finds hotter.

As if on queue Akaashi’s phone buzzes.

 

**From: Bokuto-san:**

Akaashi!! Akaashi where  r u?? ヾ( •́д•̀ ;)ﾉ ヾ( •́д•̀ ;)ﾉヾ( •́д•̀ ;)ﾉ

 

Akaashi squints under the harsh light of his phone.

"I’m home sick, Bokuto-san. Make sure you run serving drills today," he writes.

 

**From: Bokuto-san:**

〣( ºΔº )〣 SICK 〣( ºΔº )〣

 

Akaashi predicted that. Before he can tap out a response his phone has buzzed six more times.

 

**From: Bokuto-san:**

y didnt u tell me????????? i’ll be there in ten minutes

does ur head hurt is it ur tummy

do i need to bring you ice cream i here that helps w sore throats

i’m bringing ice cream anyway i’m hungry

are u hungry???? have u been sleeping all day

(๑ŐдŐ)b did i wake u up???? U SHOULD TELL ME WHEN UR SICK

 

Akaashi sighs. Would there be a point to telling Bokuto not to come? Akaashi doesn’t know if it’s worth what little precious little energy he has left to text out arguments Bokuto is just going to ignore.

He ends up typing back, “Wear a mask, Bokuto-san,” and slumps back on his too-warm pillows.

Akaashi must doze off again, because Bokuto knocking on his door jostles him awake. Bokuto’s dutifully wearing a mask, with three plastic bags dangling from each arm, and a concerned expression on his face.

“Pardon the intrusion!” Bokuto pants. Only the tops of his cheekbones are visible but what little Akaashi can see is bright red. He must have ran the whole way.

“Hey,” Akaashi sits up, his joints cracking a little. “What’s all this?”

Bokuto plops all the bags at Akaashi’s sheet-covered feet. “It’s a care package.”

“A care package?” Akaashi repeats. A rush of affection ambushes him and threatens to spill on his face.

Bokuto nods and starts unpacking.

“Ice cream,” Bokuto says, pulling two gallons out. “I couldn’t remember if your favorite was Cookie Dough or Cookies and Cream so I bought both. And then soup--” he pulls out three cans, veggie, chicken noodle, and clam chowder-- “And then I brought napkins in case you spilled the soup, because you’re kind of a messy eater, Akaashi, and then I thought ‘what if he has a headache?’ so I brought you some pain medication--” Bokuto holds out the tiny bottle and tosses it aside. “And then your mume-system is down so I--”

“You mean my immune system?” Akaashi’s laugh turns into a cough that rattles his whole body. Bokuto waves his hand dismissively.

“Yeah, yeah whatever, you’d need vitamins so I got you some orange juice and some meat for your muscles and then some broccoli--” Bokuto pulls out a whole, raw stalk of broccoli, looking at it determinedly. “And then, you must be super bored just sitting in your room all day and I know you like books so I brought you my favorite.” Akaashi’s not surprised to see an owl gracing the cover of a thick action-adventure novel. Akaashi takes it from him and thumbs through the pages, the print is wide and there are lots of detailed black and white pictures.

“But if you get bored of that I brought these,” Bokuto says, pulling out coloring books and crayons and what suspiciously looks like Kenma’s DS in a case decorated in cat stickers.

Akaashi picks up the the coloring book, also with an owl on the cover, and clearly designed for children. The princesses and cartoony animals smile with too-big eyes and exaggerated expressions. He doubts he’s shaking just from the chills now.

“Oh! And I have tea,” Bokuto says, pulling a hot, sealed cup from the bag. “No sugar, honey on the side.”

Akaashi takes the tea in his other hand. He holds it to his chest, letting it’s warmth seep into him. He looks up at Bokuto like he’s a marvel.

“How did you know I took honey with my tea?” Akaashi asks as Bokuto hands over the honey packets.

“I called your mom on my way over,” Bokuto says. He starts arranging everything to his liking on Akaashi’s bed. “She was the one who asked me to get you the orange juice too. Even I though I think the beef will do you more good.”

Bokuto pouts in thought. Akaashi blinks at all the food and goodies at his feet, he feels like little strings are being plucked and tugged inside him, each more painful and sweet than the last.

“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

Bokuto grins at him. “I really am the best boyfriend, aren’t I?”

Akaashi snorts, wet and loud. He sniffs and dabs his eyes.

“Akaashi.” Bokuto abandons the care package and his bravado. He kneels at Akaashi’s side and brushes his thumb across Akaashi’s cheek. “Are you alright? Are you in pain?”

Akaashi’s chest hurts, his head hurts, and his limbs feel heavy, but for a brief moment it’s gone, and all Akaashi feels is Bokuto’s hand on his cheek and a warm mug of tea pressed to his chest.

Akaashi sniffs again, lifting a coloring book with his other hand. “Do you want to color some of these with me?”

Bokuto beams. “Do I!”

First Bokuto has to put away the melting parts of Akaashi’s care package. Bokuto makes sure Akaashi takes at least four of the small pain-pills, even though Akaashi insists he isn’t isn’t as much pain as Bokuto seems to think he is. Akaashi’s mother offers to heat the soup for them, while Akaashi sips on his tea and the broccoli remains untouched on Akaashi’s nightstand.

Akaashi manages to coax Bokuto to sit on the bed beside him, curling together under the covers and letting their knees prop the book up. Bokuto sticks out his tongue when he’s concentrating, trying to color as neatly and evenly as Akaashi.

“Why are you coloring the sun purple?” Akaashi asks, amused.

“That’s the sun?” Bokuto cries. “I thought it was a flower!”

Akaashi shakes with quiet laughter as Bokuto retracts his hand and sees that it absolutely is supposed to be the sun, floating in an uncolored sky with uncolored clouds.

“Here,” Akaashi says, drawing a green stem out of the purple sun. “Now it’s a flower.”

“You’ve saved our masterpiece!” Bokuto says. “Let’s turn those clouds into flowers too.”

“Mmm,” Akaashi says. “Okay.”

They color the clouds pink and the sky green. Akaashi draws in little tufts of grass and leaves bushing from their make-shift flowers.

“How are you so good at everything, Akaashi?” Bokuto says.

Akaashi blames the blush on fever. “I’m not good at everything, Bokuto-san.”

“Seems like it,” Bokuto grumbles, giving Akaashi a masked-covered kiss to his ear.

They turn the page and to Bokuto’s delight it has the owl featured on the front page. Akaashi shakes his head, though he’s smiling.

“Look,” Akaashi says, streaking the horns on the owl black. “It’s you.”

Bokuto laughs. “Mean, Akaashi! I’m much more handsome than that!”

Akaashi inwardly agrees. The overly-animated owl stares up at them, looking silly mid-squack. Bokuto colors in his eyes yellow and he looks downright terrifying. Akaashi tells Bokuto so and Bokuto chuckles.

“They are birds of prey,” Bokuto reminds. “Let’s make his wings pink.”

“Pink?” Akaashi asks, even as he’s reaching for the corresponding crayon.

“I like pink,” Bokuto defends. “A pink owl would be the perfect creature.”

Akaashi indulges Bokuto’s pink-owl dreams, letting him put in blue trees and yellow leaves too. Akaashi feels strangely rebellious coloring in things incorrectly, and lurches like he’s been caught doing something wrong when his mother knocks on the door.

“Soup’s ready,” she says, setting the tray on Akaashi’s nightstand with his forgotten tea. She wisely had chosen the chicken noodle to heat up and Akaashi’s stomach curls with hunger. “You’re not sleepy, are you Keiji?”

“No,” Akaashi lies, willing himself not to yawn. “Thank you.”

“Drink this when you’re done, it’ll make you sleepy,” she sets the same sleeping liquid she gave him yesterday on the nightstand. “We wouldn’t want Koutarou-kun to have to baby you all night.”

Akaashi bristles and Bokuto snickers into his hand. She kisses Akaashi’s forehead and leaves them with a warning about Bokuto not staying too late. Bokuto scoots over, while Akaashi balances the bowl on his knees. Bokuto closes the coloring book.

“You should have been there at lunch today,” Bokuto says. “You won’t believe this. Komi somehow got the Karasuno managers number.”

“Really?” Akaashi says, eyebrows raised. “Willingly?”

“Doubt it,” Bokuto says, laying back. “I think he just typed in random numbers until he got a hold of her.”

Akaashi laughs quietly and Bokuto watches him with moon-eyed adoration. He sits up hurriedly and almost spills Akaashi’s soup.

“Hey, hey, hey, want me to read you some of the book I brought?” he asks.

Akaashi nods with a mouthful of noodles.

Bokuto’s not an excellent reader by any means, but Akaashi can tell he’s read this particular book many times over. Only occasionally does Bokuto mispronounce something and Akaashi correct him, and Bokuto all but makes up for it by giving the characters goofy voices and animates their expressions on his face.

Akaashi finishes his soup, drinks the tiny cup of sleeping medication, and rests his head on Bokuto’s rumbling chest. Bokuto’s voice gets quieter until it’s barely a mutter, and Akaashi loves the way it feels, deep and vibrating his bones.

Bokuto places a small kiss to Akaashi's hair, and he drearily wonders why he ever thought he would be better off alone. 

Bokuto holds the book in one hand, and his other cards through Akaashi’s hair. Akaashi selfishly wishes he could ask him to stay overnight, or better his brain supplies, just have him move in permanently. Akaashi feels silly even indulging the fantasy, but his medication-addled brain goes with it anyway. He imagines Bokuto helping his mother with the dishes, talking sports with his father at the dinner table, and welcoming Akaashi home with a kiss. Akaashi’s lost in fuzzy dreams of Bokuto’s messy, undone hair in the mornings, sharing toothpaste kisses, and late night hot-chocolate and the miraculous improbability of his parents not noticing violet-red bruises and red-red lips.

Akaashi must be delirious. He’s never this sappy.

“Hey,” Bokuto whispers. “Akaashi, I’m going to move you.”

Akaashi scowls, grip tightening on Bokuto’s t-shirt. “No.”

“‘ _Kaashi_ ,” Bokuto says affectionately. “It’s late.”

Bokuto readjusts him, turning his pillow to the cold side the way Akaashi likes and lays him to rest there. He moves away and Akaashi already misses his warmth.

“Koutarou,” Akaashi says, squinting at him through his eyelashes.

“Keiji,” Bokuto says.

Akaashi reaches for him, and Bokuto can't resist. He gets on his knees at Akaashi's bedside and wraps Akaashi in a full embrace. Bokuto buries his head in Akaashi’s fever-warm neck. Bokuto’s arms are strong and Akaashi sighs happily, satisfied.

“Was there something you wanted to tell me?” Bokuto asks, after a few quiet-heavy moments.

“No,” Akaashi says. “I just wanted you to stay.”

Bokuto snorts. “Keiji!”

“I love you,” Akaashi says. His mouth tingles and heart buzzes, still unused to saying it. 

Bokuto sighs, happy. “I love you too.”

Akaashi’s fingers tangle in Bokuto’s hair, he's unused to hearing it either. Akaashi feels weirdly teary as Bokuto pulls down his mask to give him a proper, chaste kiss and rests his forehead to Akaashi’s.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Bokuto promises. “Get some sleep.”

Akaashi nods, as he’s kissed once more and left. He thinks of of green skies and pink owls, toothpaste and kisses, full stalks of broccoli and the thought of never, ever being alone, and finally drifts to sleep.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> akaashi smiled like four times during today's episode, god is so good, life is so good, the world is beautiful 
> 
>  
> 
> come say hi to me at cutiekeiji on tumblr!!
> 
> edit: frenchyvanilla drew the cutest fanart for this fic and it's so precious you can find it here!!
> 
> http://frenchyvanilla.tumblr.com/post/138377527582/i-read-this-fic-by-cutiekeiji-and-it-was-so


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